


We'll Meet Again

by mchks



Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bliss (Far Cry), Choking, Fishing, Forced Tattoo, Gen, Gender Neutral Deputy, Knives, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Spoilers, The Deputy Dissosiates But Is Also Blissed Out Of Their Mind, Violence, physical violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-12
Updated: 2018-04-12
Packaged: 2019-04-21 21:02:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14293392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mchks/pseuds/mchks
Summary: The Deputy is captured by Eden's Gate members, and doesn't escape when brought to John's bunker.(An alternate version of the second major plot point in Holland Valley. I recommend finishing the Holland Valley region if you plan on playing the game before reading!)





	We'll Meet Again

**Author's Note:**

> The deputy is called:  
> \- Rook  
> \- The Deputy  
> \- Dep
> 
> I tried to vary it up on which term is which, because I like all of em!
> 
> I spent WAY too much time on the fishing scenes because I love fishing (both in game and irl)
> 
> EDIT: I fixed some stuff in the final parts, if you're interested check em out!!

It was supposed to be a relaxing fishing day.

 

The sun was out, the bugs weren’t yet in their thick summer swarms, and the temperature was just low enough that the deputy could get away with wearing a long sleeve shirt.

They’re perched on a large flat rock, pant legs rolled up just enough so they can rest their sore feet in the cool waters of the river. Rook has been doing more walking than ever before. Although the boots given to them by Dutch are good quality hiking boots, there’s only so much the human body can take.

It takes a few tries to thread the line through the eye of the hook, but it’s quickly fastened in place (a woolly bugger, a quick tie during one of many sleepless nights) and the knot is tied.

The river is too thin to swing the line more than once, and the deputy’s eyes lazily follow the neon green line as it’s carried downstream. Boomer settles down beside them, resting his head in the Deputy's lap. They wedge the rod between some rocks and scratch lightly behind the dog’s ears. Gradually, his eyes slip shut and the deputy is left to watch for movement in the line.

They think about a lot of things in the silence that follows. They think about Nick and Kimiko, and their unborn child. About the Carmina. Briefly, they wonder how many generations have flown that plane. Will the next branch in the Rye family tree (a daughter, Kim says, despite Nick’s hope for a boy) get to fly it too?

Then, they think about Hudson. They think about Sherrif Whitehorse, and Pratt. They think about the Marshal. They think about the people of Hope County, the people fighting every day just to stay alive.

They think about the Father.

 

-

 

A sharp tug on the line snaps them out of their daze, and they give the rod a sharp yank to anchor the hook in place. The fish struggles and leaps in an attempt to escape, but the deputy drags it onto the rock and holds it aloft in their hands. It’s a silly display, but it catches Boomer’s attention, and his head shoots up, ears alert. The fish is pretty big. Even if they ate their fill, they know there’s still going to be scraps left over for the dog. 

Boomer knows so, too.

The deputy casts the line again, for no particular reason. Maybe they’ll bring it to Fall’s End. The chef at the Spread Eagle always appreciates a good fish.

A crackle over their headset startles them. 

“--arget--sig--!”

They hurriedly adjust the knobs on the receiver, just in time to hear what’s said next.

“It’s deputy hunting season!”

 

The deputy scrambles up, startling Boomer enough that he barks. The deputy gives a sharp “shh!” and grabs their handgun. They hurriedly start up the ATV sitting nearby. It roars to life, and the foot break digs into the soles of their feet. The vehicle rockets up the shoulder of the road and the deputy fires random shots into the air. They’ve never been too great at aiming from a moving vehicle.

The peggies scatter. One of the Chosen pulls out an unusual looking rifle and begins to load something into the magazine, but the deputy isn’t thinking about one round of strange ammo. One peggy fires, and the chosen barks orders. “Use the bliss bullets! We need ‘em alive!” The deputy only has moments to think about what he says, because they feel something graze their shoulder, and where there should be an explosion of pain there’s instead a spreading heat. Their mind begins to go fuzzy, vision blurring at the edges. They respond to this by attempting to take aim, and driving the ATV right into a tree. The deputy tumbles off, legs not quite working right, too heavy to move. The chosen approaches with a triumphant cry of “Woo! Tie ‘em up!”

Then, they black out.

 

-

 

Their vision fades in and out. Someone has their legs in the air, and then their body registers the sensation of being dragged along the floor. The floor smells worse the longer that they’re dragged along it. They cough a bit, clearing their throat. Their hands don’t work right yet, fingers only slightly moving when told to make fists. Some hair catches on a screw on the ground and they wince. At the sound, the peggy moving them looks down, but apparently they look pitiful enough to not be a threat. 

The deputy scrunches up their nose and can feel dried snot below it. Their face and clothes are caked with dirt from the fall, and even though the dull ache in their shoulder hasn’t quite replaced the heated feeling yet, they can tell there’s a hell of a lot of blood on them. Rook probably wouldn’t consider themselves much of a threat either, in this state.

They can feel their body being lifted up, and they succumb to the bliss once again.

 

-

 

When their eyes open this time, a shape is moving in front of them. Their hands can move now, but they’re bound down. They flex their fingers, and gradually sounds begin to trickle into their brain. The deputy remembers this song, but they can’t remember from where. Was it the song mom would hum while cooking? The song that played on their radio one too many times? Neither, they think. It was neither of those. That was the song that had played when they had camped out in the backyard as a child. On the hand crank radio given as a gift. Yes, that must be it.

But they’re not quite sure. 

The clank of a metal box finally snaps the train of thought from their drug addled mind. John Seed is there. When did he get there? Has he _always_ been there?

John runs his hands along the wood of the bench. The deputy’s mind finally clicks that it’s Hudson in that chair. Hudson’s alive. They weren’t too late. John turns around, face all smiles, all compassion, all fake.

“My parents were the first ones to teach me about the power of Yes.”

With the Bliss, all the sounds blend together. Hudson’s whimpers. John’s words. The screams, rooms away. Rook jumps at the CA-CHUNK of a staple gun going off. John’s nailed something (leather?) to the backboard of the workbench. He slams the stapler down.

“When I thought I couldn’t take any more of that pain, I did. And something broke, from the inside. I wasn’t scared. No, I was… Clear.”

His hands fiddle with a small object. He plugs it in, holding it like a pen. He looks at the deputy, still wearing a nonchalant smile.

“I started to laugh. All I could say, was ‘Yes’.”

He flicks at the contraption in his hands and it begins to buzz. It’s a horrible sound. Hudson screams behind her gag.

John reaches forward. Enough to strangle the deputy, if he wanted to. Get rid of a thorn in his side, send a message. But he doesn’t. He grabs the fabric of the button-up flannel and tears, leaving bare skin exposed. The deputy begins to struggle.

“It was Joseph, who showed me how selfish I was being.” John says. He uses a sponge to wipe away the layer of dirt that’s built up over the deputy’s chest. The deputy makes a noise of anger through their gag. “Giving takes courage. Courage to own your sin.” He picks up a screwdriver from the box on the table, gesturing with it. "I’m going to teach you courage. Teach you how to say ‘Yes’, so you can confront your weaknesses. So you can confront your sins! To confront your weaknesses! Swim, across an ocean of pain, and emerge… free.” He places the tip of the tool against the deputy’s throat. “Then… you can begin to atone. So… who’s going first?”

 

Rook is silent. Husdon’s screams escalate into warped yowls, and John kicks over the workbench like it’s nothing but a toy. “For fucks sake!” he yells, before regaining his composure. “We’ll start with you.”

“But first, I’m going to get someone to take Deputy Hudson here back to her room. Confessions are supposed to be _private_ , after all.”

 

He wheels Hudson out the door, and a Chosen wheels her away. John turns on his heels and spreads his arms wide, like an embrace. 

He picks up the small machine again, and now that most of the bliss is gone, the deputy sees it’s a tattoo gun. It whirrs to life again, as John toys with the power switch.

“I’ve finally figured out your sin, Deputy. It’s _wrath_. Have you ever put a single thought towards the people you’ve hurt? They wanted nothing more than salvation through the father, and you tore that away from them. But now? I’m going to make you say ‘yes’.”

“Not all problems are solved through violence, you know. But so far, that’s all you’ve done. You’ve taken, and taken, and taken. Now, confess your sins, so they can be written into your flesh!”

John cuts away the fabric between the deputy’s lips. Even when it falls away, they still say nothing. John twirls the tattoo machine in his hands. 

“What do you say, Deputy? It’s just One. Little. Word.”

 

The Deputy takes a deep breath, smacks their lips, and spits, right onto the ground next to John’s shoe.

 

They can’t even blink before John’s hands are around their neck, wrenching them forward, then back again, their head bashing against the backboard of the chair. John’s heavy boots come into contact with the deputy’s knee in a swift kick, before he’s able to remove his hands from their throat and back away, head shaking, wearing that smile like it’s all a friendly misunderstanding.

“You. Don’t. Understand. I’m trying to save you! And you have been nothing but difficult so far. But sometimes, we have to help people that aren’t willing to accept it. Haven’t you met someone like that? Someone who you just know isn’t doing the right thing?” John pauses, and he laughs. “Well… that’s what you are to me, Deputy. You just need a little bit of help.”

He reaches to the ground and picks up the gag, which he wads up into a ball and wrestles back into the deputy’s mouth. He places a hand on their chest. “I think it’ll be here. Right over the heart. We have to get all that sin out of you, and you have quite a lot.”

Rook struggles against their bonds, but they’re tied tight, and the tattoo gun is already singing its horrible droning song. It connects to the deputy’s chest and they scream behind the gag as John moves it roughly along their skin. They howl and thrash, and John lifts the gun away and smiles. “Stay still, it’s supposed to say ‘Wrath’, not ‘Rat’.”

It’s a few more minutes of John dragging the needle over the deputy’s skin, but it feels like hours. The deputy hasn’t ever had a tattoo before, but they’re sure it isn’t supposed to burn like this. When John finally backs away, he tilts his head as he admires his handiwork. 

He reaches into his pockets and pulls out a knife. Rook has seen the same one used to skin a deer, back when they were seventeen and hunting with their brothers. John presses it to their skin, just beginning to make the first incision, when the Chosen from earlier bursts into the room.

“Sir! The prisoner has escaped! She’s freeing the others!”

John drives the knife deeper into the deputy’s flesh. The Chosen tries again. “We need your help!”

A grimace blooms over John’s face. He drops the knife, and it clatters on the floor. Rook takes this opportunity to take several large, heaving breaths. John gets up close to Rooks face, close enough that they can feel his breath, and whispers “I’ll be right back”.

When John’s gone though, the deputy scoots the chair to the top of the exit stairs. Sending themself tumbling down proves enough force to break the rope bonds, and they take the gag to hold over the wound in their chest. They grab John’s knife, and run like hell.

 

-

 

The deputy, still barefoot, makes their way through the bunker. At first, with just the knife and an old pipe found on the ground, it's hard to take out the swarms of peggies waiting around. They know that the cultists would kill them given the chance, but it just feels _wrong_. Every time they sneak up on someone, they're just sitting, relaxing, enjoying life, or praying to the Father. They encounter one man giving his thanks to the Father for helping him escape his life before the cult. They sneak around that entire room. They don't want to do any more killing than they need to, despite what John thinks.

They meet up with Hudson about halfway through their escape. She tries to kill them, and for a second everything is a struggle of sharp blades and shrieks. "I'm sorry" Hudson gasps. "I thought you were one of _them_." They devise a careful plan to free the other prisoners, and even with the few hitches and peggies around every corner, Rook makes it happen. They destroy the computers holding the prisoners in one wing, Hudson directing their movements. She always was one for the more technical side to things. After finding the manual release on the doors for the other prisoner’s cells, Hudson leaves to round everyone up, leaving the deputy to get the hell out of there. 

John’s voice booms over the loudspeakers as they flee the bunker, and when they’re sure they’ve escaped the peggies, and after Hudson buzzes them to show that she’s safe, the deputy collapses into a field of long grass. They feel their stomach lurch, and they throw up their almost-fully-digested breakfast. 

Then, they begin to cry. The Junior Deputy, the rescuer, the hope for the resistance, covered in their own blood and vomit. Tears soak into the scratchy grass and dry soil beneath them, and they pound their fists into the dirt until they’re raw, small pebbles stuck to their skin. They want to scream, express all the hurt, all the anguish caused by this stupid fucking cult. They find though, that even with the desire to, their throat just won't make the sound. They cry silent, heaving sobs until, energy spent, their body gives out. They adjust their torn shirt so it covers the new scar (one of many) that mark their body, and sigh deep enough that they feel their lungs burn. Rook continues to cry until the world begins to turn black at the edges and then the deputy finally, _finally_ gives into sleep.

When Pastor Jerome and his search party find them, they tend to their wounds, washing out the dirt from their various cuts and scrapes, disinfecting the knife wound. The green liquid that they use to disinfect smells like the dish soap they use back home. Maybe it is. The dish soap is green too. 

The resistance shares their concern, how Hudson found them, and how she was so scared. They have a large dinner (though, what’s large nowadays with all the peggy food raids) and praise the deputy on a mission gone well. Rook plasters on a smile, they know they should be happy. The prisoners are free! They've recovered dozens. But they still feel... hollow. They drink with the others (though Rook skips the dancing, their chest hurts to move) and shout obscenities with the rest when they hear the Eden's Gate patrols dash by in their pick-up trucks. Boomer, relieved to see his friend again, trails behind them the whole night.

 

Nobody remarks on the tattoo.

**Author's Note:**

> YES I was fishing when I got hunted and YES I ran my ATV into a tree while trying to escape. I then backed up, and drove into it again.
> 
> I've also (irl) ridden an ATV barefoot. Don't recommend it!
> 
> I refuse to believe the deputy can aim while shooting off an ATV. You can't drive and shoot. That's the devil's magic.
> 
> The song John's humming is "We'll meet again", in case you didn't know.


End file.
